


Must Love Cats

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:03:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9497288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: Lucius discovers an amazing, however incredible, sight in his tent.





	

“Oi, Ron!”  
  
Ron Weasley turned and picked the familiar face of his sister out of the crowd that was jostling to enter the Quidditch World Cup stands.  
  
“Hi, Ginny.”  
  
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” she snapped, as she read fear in his smile and hugged him.  
  
“I’ve done something awful, Gin. I think I’ve just lost Hermione forever.”  
  
As much as Ginny wanted to offer her brother sympathy, she knew what a git he could be, particularly where Hermione was concerned. She dragged him out of the Quidditch-fevered crowd towards an empty cove of trees.  
  
“What did you do?” Ginny asked, fighting her instinct to hex Ron into a giant slug.  
  
Her brother glanced guiltily at the witches and wizards streaming by.  
  
“Ronald Bilius,” Ginny growled.  
  
“Don’t act like Mum!” Ron snapped back.  
  
“Well, what did you do that makes you think you lost your fiancé forever?” Ginny retorted, crossing her arms over her chest so that she didn’t draw her wand too quickly.  
  
“Well, she’s been acting dodgy lately and I think she was planning to leave me.”  
  
This was not news to Ginny. She knew that Hermione was unhappy but she didn’t feel it was her place to reveal that to her brother. “And?”  
  
“And I wanted to spend a whole night with her, you know, showing her how much she means to me…”  
  
Ginny grimaced and impatiently gestured for him to continue. Her brother’s face went pale and he nervously fidgeted with the frayed cuff of his robes.  
  
“So, I found this potion,” he muttered in a barely audible voice.  
  
“Not a love potion!”  
  
“No! Not that! It was just a… It’s for breeding cats… To, you know, induce…heat.”  
  
Ginny stood motionless until the white haze of rage cleared from her vision and she could see again.  
  
“You gave Hermione a potion brewed for cats?”  
  
“I don’t know if it would even work…”  
  
“Because _that’s_ what’s wrong with that plan.”  
  
Ron shrugged. “Yeah, I screwed up. I put the potion in her favorite wine and went to meet her at the Apparition area but I must have missed her. I got back to the tent and her bags were there but Hermione and the wine were gone.”  
  
“She found it and went looking for you.”  
  
“Or left me.”  
  
Any sympathy Ginny might have had for her brother’s pain was completely gone. “You know, Ron, either way, it’s for the best. You went too far. You know that, don’t you?”  
  
The redhead nodded glumly and followed his sister towards the Quidditch stands.

~*~

  
Hermione was not surprised to find the tent empty. Ron was nutters about Quidditch and she assumed that he was off talking Quidditch with other fanatics. She dumped her bags in the corner and her gaze landed immediately on the wine.  
  
With a heavy sigh, Hermione picked up the bottle to examine the label. It was thoughtful of Ron to pick it up for her but it didn’t change that they were growing apart. With a quick tap of her wand, Hermione opened the wine and took a deep sip. She and Ron had been done for awhile. Tonight, she was going to end it and a little wine would go a long way in soothing her nerves.  
  
As Hermione sipped straight from the bottle, she tried to plan precisely what she was going to say to Ron. After awhile, she was distracted by the fact that the tent was stuffy and warm. And there was the most tantalizing smell wafting in from outside… It wasn’t food, but it was familiar and it made her mouth water. Hermione took the bottle with her to investigate the source.  
  
The campground was virtually empty and she wondered how close the game was to starting. Ron would be upset if she missed the opening theatrics. Hermione would join him when she was good and ready; first, she needed to find out where that wonderful smell was coming from. The scent made her itchy and pleasantly warm at the same time. It seemed to be coming from a tent isolated from the others.  
  
Hermione took another swallow of wine as she examined the campsite. The tent was of unremarkable black cloth but the garish statues on either side of it left little doubt that the occupant was a fan of Slytherin; they were giant snakes. That didn’t deter Hermione because that divine smell had become so pungent that she was about to do something that she never would have done with a clear head. Driven by increasingly strong instinct, she banished the protective wards.  
  
Upon entering the tent, Hermione’s skin grew increasingly itchy to the point of painful. Driven mad by the sensation, she tore off her robes and under things. Only when she was naked did her skin feel some relief. Hermione shook her head, hoping for some clarity. What was wrong with her?  
  
She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed them in an attempt at self-comfort. Instead, a languid heat trickled through her. Intrigued, she slid her hands slowly down her stomach and back up her sides. She was marveling at the sweet pang of pleasure coursing through her when she was enveloped by the smell that had lured her into a stranger’s tent.  
  
Hermione’s brain recognized the wizard gaping at her, but her instinct only called him ‘mate.’ He smelled like the best meal in existence and she was starved. Hermione walked right up to Lucius Malfoy and pressed herself against him. When he tried to say something, Hermione stood on her toes and silenced him with a long, aggressive kiss. Her fingers feverishly plucked buttons from holes and pushed at fabric until she felt hot skin against hers.  
  
“Madam!” Lucius exclaimed. “While I am flattered,” he choked as the witch successfully tugged down his trousers. He shuffled backwards and yanked them back up. “I do not make a habit of falling into bed with strange witches!” he thundered.  
  
Hermione was nonplussed but undeterred. She closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the sensations that just his scent stirred within her. Fizzy bubbles tickled through her towards the hot crux of her thighs.  
  
“I _do_ know you,” Lucius hissed. “You’re Hermione Granger. I hardly recognized you, girl…” Lucius arranged his robes and picked up Hermione’s. “Merlin in knickers, what is wrong with you?” he wondered, trying to cover the young witch.  
  
Hermione was incapable of speech. When Lucius approached her, she could only mold herself to him, aching for him to touch her.  
  
Lucius was not an unintelligent wizard. He drew his wand and bound the little witch to a chair. She made some god-awful sounds so he simply charmed her silent and picked up the rest of her clothes. He was relieved to find the wine bottle. _Something_ had to be to blame for her actions; she would never willingly throw herself at any wizard. Of that, Lucius was certain.  
  
A couple of investigative spells revealed that the wine had, indeed, been tampered with; however, the potion was not one that Lucius had ever come across. He was at a loss. He glanced at the little witch and got a shock to see that she’d been weeping.

“ _Sonorus_!” Lucius cast quietly.  
  
“I need you… I _want_ you…” she wept.  
  
“You’re under the sway of some potion,” Lucius attempted to explain. The witch only continued to plead. Obviously, she was beyond comprehension. Lucius knelt beside her and pondered possible solutions for his predicament. The witch leaned towards him, straining so hard that he took pity and brushed his knuckles down her cheek. Her bliss at the small gesture was so great that Lucius wondered if the antidote to the potion was simply to do the deed.  
  
She was lovely…  
  
She was drugged…  
  
She was attempting to wriggle out of the chair and Lucius grew heady with the idea that such a beautiful, young witch wanted him so much. He took her chin and looked into her eyes. She was feverish and desperate. She would cause herself harm. Feeling grim, Lucius let her free for the wrong reasons.  
  
The little witch would, undoubtedly, regret it later but she’d gotten herself into this mess. Lucius would simply help get her out of it.  
  
Hermione wrapped herself around him so that Lucius had a difficult time maneuvering them into his room. He managed to disentangle the girl from his hair and get her onto his bed. She promptly buried her nose in the pillows and appeared to smell them. Lucius hesitated for a moment before removing his robes; he was about to cross a line he hadn’t crossed with any witch except his deceased wife. His actions would have repercussions. Yes, she was ridiculously under the influence of a potion but he could claim ignorance. He’d walked into the foyer and been tackled by a naked witch. What red-blooded wizard would stop and ask questions? Certainly not a Slytherin… Particularly, one with pockets deep enough to please anyone that might question his actions.  
  
“Lucius, please,” the witch begged.  
  
She was coherent enough to know him. Lucius’ mind made the decision and his robes joined hers on the floor.

~*~

  
Hermione awoke to twinges of pain between her legs. She groaned and curled into a ball, wondering, vaguely, about the pain. Sketchy images of a lot of sex surfaced in her memory. Sex with… _Lucius Malfoy_. Hermione’s blood ran cold and then hot as she replayed the night in her head. She’d begged him…for everything. He’d taken her in more ways last night than Ron had in a whole year.  
  
Frightened of what she’d find, Hermione opened her eyes. She was relieved to discover herself alone. Her robes were neatly folded at the end of the bed and she wasted no time getting dressed. She crept silently out of the tent, thankful not to have to face Lucius. Hermione’s first instinct was to hurry back to Ron’s tent but then she remembered that instead of breaking things off with him, she’d ended up in the Malfoy tent, shagging Lucius.  
  
The campsites were eerily still in the foggy morning. Hermione drew her wand with the growing suspicion that Ron had steered her towards her fate. She suddenly Disapparated to the site of his tent.  
  
Hermione stormed into the tent, but her intimidating entrance was spoiled by the butterbeer bottles littering the floor. She kicked several before she knew what was at her feet and they made an awful cacophony.  
  
“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione hollered. She sincerely hoped that he had a hangover.  
  
Hermione heard some shushing and then Ron emerged from the curtained bedroom, pulling on his trousers. He was so pale, Hermione thought he might faint.  
  
“Hermione,” he said, a terrified smile twitching at his mouth. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“The wine,” Hermione prompted, giving the wizard a chance to dig his own grave.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Hermione. It was for cats. It probably wouldn’t have worked…” his voice trailed off.  
  
A potion for cats? Sweet Salazar Slytherin! It was a potion for _breeding_ _cats_! Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The calming technique didn’t work. She lifted her wand and Ron, for once, was thinking, because he dropped to the ground as she let loose an awful hex. The spell hit the witch hidden behind the curtain - she screamed. Hermione grinned to think that Ron’s little tart was now covered in festering, green boils.  
  
“We could have ended things like civilized people, Ron,” she said, glaring maliciously at him.  
  
“I thought you’d left me already – when I came back you were gone!”  
  
Hermione frowned. Ron had no idea what had happened to her! He had no idea what his selfish, horrible actions had pushed her into the previous night! Telling him whom she ended up with might give him a coronary but Hermione didn’t want rumors flying. Lucius had been gracious enough to be absent when she awoke; she didn’t want to do him the disservice of publicizing his tryst with a Muggle-born.  
  
Without another word, Hermione summoned her bags, shrunk them to pocket-sized and Disapparated for home.

~*~

  
“Something tells me you’re not here to exchange gifts,” Harry grinned.  
  
“Hi, Harry,” Hermione grinned back.  
  
Harry held the door wide; “Come in and get warm.”  
  
Hermione entered the cozy flat and suffered a wave of envy. She’d been quite alone since splitting with Ron nearly three months prior and her new flat felt painfully empty. Mistletoe and holly spilled from every surface in Harry’s small home.  
  
“Cloak?” Harry asked.  
  
“Is your flat-mate here?”  
  
“Sleeping.”  
  
“In that case, I’ll stay awhile,” Hermione replied, shucking her coat and handing it over.  
  
Harry hung the cloak behind the door. “If I can be friends with him, anyone can.”  
  
“Is Ron speaking to you, yet?”  
  
“Not yet. Are you ever going to tell me what Ron did to you..?”  
  
Hermione settled herself in a chair by the fire. “As I’ve come for some advice, I suppose that tale might be fair payment. Have you got any biscuits?”  
  
“Only if you brought them,” Harry smirked. “Tea?”  
  
“Have you got lemon?”  
  
Harry didn’t bother to reply as he fetched the kettle and mugs from the kitchen. Bachelors were not known for stocking their shelves with frivolous things like biscuits and lemon. Once they were both seated and sipping, _sans lemon_ , Hermione finally faced his expectant expression.  
  
“Right. Well, I was supposed to meet Ron at the World Cup. I found the tent but he wasn’t there. I was, as you know, planning to break things off with him and when I found my favorite bottle of wine waiting for me, I opened it and started drinking. I only had a few sips – not at all enough to get me drunk.”  
  
“And?” Harry prompted.  
  
Hermione was reluctant to continue. It was embarrassing to admit falling for such a simple trick but what boyfriend put potion in his girlfriend’s wine?  
  
“Ron put a potion in the wine… A potion to breed cats.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“He doesn’t know I drank it and he doesn’t know that it worked.”  
  
“Hang on! Ron gave you a potion for _cats_?”  
  
“Remember the Polyjuice Potion our second year? And how I accidentally used cat hair in mine?” Hermione shrugged. “I suspect that in some odd way, I am still part cat.”  
  
“That wanker!” Harry exclaimed.  
  
“To say the least,” Hermione agreed.  
  
“So, what do you mean by ‘it worked’?”  
  
“I ended up in someone else’s tent,” Hermione tried to appear casual but Harry knew her too well and his shock would only lead to misunderstanding. She hurried to explain.  
  
“The potion did something to my senses because I smelled the most amazing smell in the world. I followed it to a wizard. I threw myself at him, Harry. And when I thought he might turn me away, I was in physical pain. It was quite strange…”  
  
“Who was it?” Harry asked quietly.  
  
Hermione unconsciously glanced at the door to Harry’s flat-mate’s room.  
  
“Does it matter?”  
  
“Are you sure _Ron_ slipped you the potion?” Harry’s skepticism was almost insulting.  
  
“I confronted him the next morning, Harry. I’m certain that it was him.”  
  
“But the potion led you to _one_ wizard..?”  
  
“Look, it’s someone I’ve always found attractive. I remember thinking of him as a ‘mate’ when I found him. Merlin in knickers, Harry! I don’t want to think about what might have happened if he had been in the stands!” Hermione dramatically covered her eyes.  
  
“I want a name,” Harry grinned.  
  
“You’ll quit grinning at me like that when you hear it,” Hermione warned.  
  
Harry lifted his brows but his smiled did not dim.  
  
Voice barely audible, Hermione admitted, “It was Lucius Malfoy.”  
  
“I was wondering why he never made it to the game! Surely you can do better than my father, Granger. Then again, anyone is better than Weasley.”  
  
Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as Draco strolled in from the kitchen. When had he woken up? Harry was looking at her like he wasn’t sure if he was revolted or not. Draco poured himself some tea from their kettle and picked up the Daily Prophet, appearing completely unconcerned.  
  
“Does your father still despise Muggle-borns?” Hermione asked curiously.  
  
Draco narrowed his grey eyes at her over the top of the paper. “What does that matter?”  
  
“It doesn’t,” Hermione whispered back, blushing furiously. She was glad she’d thought to conceal her pregnancy with charms.

~*~

  
Upon opening her door, Hermione’s first thought was that she was going to kill Draco. Lucius Malfoy stood on her doorstep, looking as poised as ever while she felt short and round. He didn’t know that, though. Hermione had cast disguising charms to hide her impending child before answering the door.  
  
“Good morning, Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione said with a frown. She had no idea what to say to him.  
  
“Good morning, Ms. Granger,” he replied. “May I have a moment of your time?”  
  
“Of course! Please, come in. May I take your coat?” she asked, flustered.  
  
“That won’t be necessary,” he replied, glancing around Hermione’s small home.  
  
“Oh,” Hermione replied uncertainly. He did not plan to stay long. Rather than invite him to sit, she waited for him to state his business. Being so close to him again was a little intoxicating; he smelled like cloves and his gaze seemed to burn into her soul. Hermione licked her lips and looked away. Unfortunately, his appearance coincided with her morning ritual of regurgitation and she fought the sensation as it welled, to no avail. Without warning or excuse, she darted around Lucius for the loo.  
  
Hermione got a shock when a house-elf began sponging off her face as she sat on the floor, recovering.  
  
“Thank you,” she said, noting that it wore clean rags and bobbed its head with subservience but contentment. Hermione climbed to her feet and cast a quick charm on her teeth before wandering back into the living area to find that Lucius had made himself comfortable, after all. The wizard stood as she reappeared.  
  
“Are you quite alright?”  
  
Hermione’s hand slid over her stomach. “Just a minor illness.” _Minor, indeed_.  
  
“I had an owl from Draco last night,” Lucius began.  
  
Hermione’s lips went thin-of course he had.  
  
“I am more than happy to corroborate your story if you decide to press charges against Mr. Weasley,” he offered in a dark tone.  
  
“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, but I don’t think that I will seek retribution.”  
  
Hermione returned Lucius’ stare and began to suspect that he’d come for more than just that. Unbidden, memories of the night she spent in his bed resurfaced and she found herself growing warm.  
  
“I took the liberty of investigating the potion in your wine,” Lucius said. His gaze darted hotly to her lips when she wet them.    
  
Before she realized what she’d done, Hermione took a step towards him. It was as if dormant instinct had awoken in her. She wanted him; her body yearned for him. Hermione blinked, trying to focus on something else but her mind had gone mushy with one purpose: get closer to Lucius.  
  
“It has some lingering effects,” he continued, voice rife with innuendo.  
  
As if in a trance, Hermione took another step. “Oh?”  
  
Surely, the wizard knew what he was chancing by coming to her home. Perhaps, he was _hoping_ to reignite her interest. Whatever the case, Hermione took another step towards him. She was close enough to smell him and she closed her eyes, inhaling his spicy scent.  
  
“Would you like me to leave?” he asked.  
  
Hermione shook her head, a small grin teasing her lips. It seemed that was the only permission Lucius required. He took the last step that separated them. Hermione’s senses swam with giddy pleasure to be near him again. She’d had no idea a wizard could make a witch feel so flighty.  
  
“Why didn’t you turn me away at the World Cup?” she asked softly. It had been plaguing her that a former Death Eater had so willingly taken her to his bed.  
  
“Why do you want me to stay?” he countered, sliding a hand suggestively over her hip.  


A heartbeat after Lucius noticed something amiss with the shape of Hermione’s stomach, Hermione remembered that he could feel what he couldn’t see. The round, little protrusion of her belly would give her away.  
  
With a muttered spell, Lucius’ hand caressed her abdomen once more and Hermione’s magic fell away. Hermione felt all of the blood drain from her face and her heart plummeted into her stomach.  
  
“Are you…With child?”  
  
Hermione’s eyes went wide and she stepped out of his reach. “Yes.”  
  
“Is it mine?”  
  
The witch gazed at the wizard before her and felt fear; he was virtually a stranger. She couldn’t rely on him for anything.  
  
“No,” she said in a small voice.  
  
“You’re lying,” he immediately replied, eyes glazing as he slipped into his own thoughts. He dropped inelegantly onto the settee and massaged his chin in a pensive gesture.  
  
Hermione felt her face grow warm as Lucius’ gaze stared blindly at her stomach.  
  
“This is unprecedented,” he murmured.  
  
“You don’t have to – I’m not asking anything of you…” Hermione gushed. She was mortified at having allowed herself to become pregnant by a former Death Eater and then discovered while trying to keep it secret. Had she no ability to look after herself?  
  
“You intend to keep it?” Lucius asked, still preoccupied.  
  
“Of course!”  
  
A few quiet moments passed while Hermione considered trying to convince him that it was someone else’s baby – there was no way that Lucius Malfoy would lay claim to having a child with a Muggle-born!  
  
Finally, Lucius regained his feet and his mind; his eyes were, once again, focused.  
  
“I understand that a potion guided you to me and that the babe is unexpected, however, that does not mean it is not wanted.”  
  
A chill shivered down Hermione’s spine. What, exactly, did that mean? Surely, Lucius didn’t intend to play father to their child.  
  
The wizard continued, “I wish to support you. I wish to-”  
  
“Don’t you dare be honorable!” Hermione snapped, terrified that Lucius was about to do something ridiculous.  
  
“I’m not proposing marriage,” he said with a slow, frightening smile.  
  
“Thank Morgana’s knickers!” Hermione exclaimed, relieved. It was unthinkable.  
  
“Although, I suppose that is an eventual consideration…” Lucius muttered under his breath.  
  
Incredulous, Hermione fisted her hands on her hips. “Don’t you despise Muggle-borns, Mr. Malfoy?”  
  
“No,” Lucius replied chillily.  
  
That was news to Hermione. “Then why become a Death Eater?”  
  
“That’s quite personal,” Lucius replied, still emanating cold.  
  
Hermione was unimpressed. She ran her hand exaggeratedly across her stomach. “I’d say we’re on a path akin to _personal_...”  
  
Lucius scowled. “My apologies, Hermione. Of course, that is what I want. I am accustomed to…shielding myself.”  
  
Hermione looked at the man sitting so stiffly on her sofa and sighed. He was as much a victim of the situation as she and _he_ seemed to be dealing better with it. “Do you want a drink?”  
  
“Please.”  
  
The relief in his voice made Hermione smirk while fetching the wine and a glass from her kitchenette. She poured Lucius half of a glass, then set the bottle in front of him and joined him on the settee. It was a comfortable silence between them as Lucius sipped his wine.  
  
“Draco said that you asked if I hate Muggle-borns and I came here to tell you, however awkwardly, that I do not. And now I understand why you asked.”  
  
Hermione’s heart melted a little more. She felt a stir of desire for him but realized that it was a natural feeling and not brought about by the lingering effects of a potion. It was a little shocking but she genuinely liked the wizard sitting with her and the more he revealed, the more she liked him. It was unfortunate that they found themselves in such a strange twist of a situation. Was it at all possible that he might want her? That they might build from their odd beginning?  
  
“As I said, I wish to support you. I’ll see that you have everything you need.” Lucius spotted Hermione’s frown and wondered if she was the sort that resented gifts.  
  
“Think of it as a Christmas present.”  
  
Hermione glanced longingly at Lucius’ wine but knew better. She wouldn’t chance her child’s health with a single sip of alcohol. She would have to take a chance with average courage rather than liquid-inspired.  
  
“Why didn’t you turn me away at the World Cup?” she repeated.  
  
Lucius made an odd face at her before answering. “I walked into the foyer of my tent and found a young witch, without a stitch of robes, touching herself…”  
  
Hermione blushed but didn’t look away. She wanted to hear all of it.  
  
“I wanted you,” Lucius said, unapologetically. His piercing gaze dared her to give him a hard time about it.  
  
Heat that had nothing to do with the warmth spell on the sofa pooled in Hermione’s stomach and she licked her lips.  
  
“Then listen carefully, Lucius. I don’t want something I _need_ for Christmas; it’s you I want.”  


~* One Year Later *~

 

After bidding the last of the guests farewell, Hermione found Lucius ensconced in the close darkness of Cassius’ bedroom, watching the boy sleep.

 

“Lucius..?” she whispered,

 

“They still don’t believe it, Hermione,” Lucius hissed in reply.

 

Hermione’s hands found her husband and comforted him with soothing caresses. She was pulled into his arms. Lucius pressed his forehead to the new bulge growing in Hermione’s stomach.

 

“Neither did I - in the beginning,” she replied, gently running her fingertips over the stubble of his jaw. Despite the _unconventional_ start of their relationship, within months, Hermione realized that it had blossomed into a loving and committed one. But, she would not allow her betimes morose husband to dwell on the lingering and poorly-masked incredulity of her friends.

 

“You didn’t hex anyone,” she sighed, playfully mussing his hair and extracting herself from his arms.

 

Lucius muttered something mutinous that might have been a curse as he followed her from their son’s room. In the corridor, Hermione waited as Lucius silently closed Cassius’ door.

 

“Thank you,” Hermione said, sincerely. Her friends might be skeptical of her marriage to Lucius Malfoy but they were her friends. And her husband had ignored their suspicion. Lucius lifted Hermione’s fingers to his lips in reply as they strolled towards their bedroom.

 

“You wanted your friends to join us on Christmas Eve; they did and I pretended to find them interesting.”

 

Hermione ginned. “Perhaps they’ll believe that we’re in love after our second child is born.”

 

“As long as you never doubt it.” Lucius purred, drawing Hermione after him into their bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: cracktastic  
> A/N: Written for the 2010 Love Actually Christmas Challenge.  
> Prompt: "Don't give me something I need for Christmas. Give me something I want."


End file.
